the Little Orphan Sam
by ErinisMagic
Summary: Annie!AU- Eleven years ago, Sam's parents left him at the orphanage with a note promising that they would come back for him. Now, he's determined to find them himself, or at least get out of the orphanage.
1. Chapter 1

The cold, mid-December air swirled through the streets of New York City, thoroughly chilling everyone and everything still out at the late hour of the night and sending fat snowflakes tumbling about in the breeze. Sam rubbed his sleeve over the frosty window to clear away the fog and gazed out at the world he'd never been allowed to experience. He sat on the windowsill and wondered what it would be like to be a normal kid. A kid with loving parents who would take him on outings and tell him stories, and even be there to take care of him when he was sick. He soon abandoned that train of thought, however; it only succeeded in making him upset.

Small, pathetic whimpers sounded from behind him. Turning around, Sam found Garth in the throws of yet another nightmare. This made it the third time this week. Sighing to himself, he planted his feet on the cold floor and made to go over to Garth and calm him down just as the others noticed the noise, too.

"Not again," Raphael moaned.

"Wake up, Garth," Uriel wined, "and shut it."

"Yeah," Victor agreed. "Shut up!"

"Hey! Leave him alone," Ash piped up, defending the younger boy and climbing out of bed.

"You wanna make me?" Uriel challenged, also on his feet.

The two boys started fighting and were quickly joined by the rest of the orphans, none of whom could resist a good fight. Gabriel and Balthazar joined Ash in defending Garth, while Michael, Raphael, and Zachariah ganged up with Victor and Uriel. The room was soon full of noise as the boys started shouting, and Sam knew that that was _not_ a good thing for them to be doing, especially late at night.

Climbing up onto one of the beds, he succeeded in making himself taller than the rest of the orphans. "Stop it, all of you!" Sam cried as loud as he dared, jumping back down to the floor once he has gotten their attention and pulling the boys apart. No one was quite sure when it happened, but Sam had become the leader of the group of orphans; without parents to tell them what to do, everyone listened to Sam. "If Crowley wakes up, we're done for. Now go to sleep," he ordered, turning back to comfort Garth as the others shuffled back to their beds, frowning at the early end to their fun for the night.

"You okay, Garth?" he asked softly, sitting down next to him on the bed and gently running a soothing hand over his back. Garth nodded and let out another small whimper, curling up against Sam's side.

"I want my mommy and daddy," he whispered sadly.

"Hey, Garth?" Victor crooned, and Sam knew that tone. Victor was gearing up for trouble. "We ain't got no mommies and daddies. And we're never gonna have them, either." He snorted and rolled his eyes before finishing his thoughts. "There's a reason we're called 'orphans'."

"I'm not an orphan!" Sam shot back defensively. "My folks are out there somewhere and they're coming back for me! I've even got a note to prove it."

"That old thing?" Michael scoffed from across the room. Sam had read it aloud so many times, each and every kid in the orphanage had it memorized. To them, they were meaningless words by now. Sam had been in the orphanage for eleven years, now, and they were all fairly sure that if Sam's parents were coming for him, they would have been there by now. Sam, however, never gave up hope. It didn't seem like he'd be giving hope anytime in the near future, either.

"I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but it means the world to me," he said. "It means that I've still got parents, and if I wait long enough, I'll get to be with them again. So back off, and go to sleep."

The boys grumbled softly, but did as they were told, crawling under the thin, scratchy blankets that covered their beds. They were asleep within minutes.

Sam sighed, looking over the misfit group of abandoned children and straightening their blankets before returning to him own bed. He tried to follow his own orders and sleep, but was awake again in half an hour. He sat up just as the clock outside struck three, sending slightly muffled chimes through the large room, and made a decision on the spot.

He slid to the floor, reaching under his bed and grabbing the small sack filled with the few possessions he had. He also kept a flashlight stored under his thin mattress and pulled that out as well, knowing he would need it.

"Now what?" Zachariah groaned, hearing Sam's movements and leaning over the side of his bed to look at him.

Sam stood up, rolling his eyes. "I'm getting out of here," he said, switching on the flashlight and walking over to the door.

"Again?" It wasn't the first time Sam had tried to run away. He never made it out of the orphanage, but that never stopped him from trying. All of the others thought that he should have given up on trying to escape by now, but as long as his parents were out there, there was no way that he would just sit and wait when he could be trying to find them.

Sam twisted back and fixed Zachariah with a furious gaze that shut him up within a matter of seconds. "Watch out for Garth," he said to anyone who would listen, pushing the door open and disappearing into the dark hall.

"Better hope you don't get caught again," Gabriel mocked with a grin as Sam left. Sam ignored him.

It was an old building with cracks in walls and worn out floors, but Sam had been there his whole life. He could practically navigate the place with his eyes closed, so he knew perfectly well which steps squeaked and which ones didn't. Upon reaching the first floor, he paused for a moment to make sure Crowley was still asleep. Not hearing anything coming from the man's room, Sam tiptoed the rest of the way to the door.

The door, as Sam had predicted, was lock. There were three separate locks on it, so Sam reached up to the top one, turning it slowly until it clicked. He did the same for the next one, and the next. With the door unlocked, he held his breath and reached for the handle, freedom within his reach. Unfortunately, he hadn't even managed to pull the door open more than an inch when a large hand shot out of the shadows behind him, slamming the door back shut.

"Boo."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam jumped back, flicking the light up to illuminate the face of Crowley looming over him, grinning maliciously.

"Trying to run away again, are we?" His words were soft but dangerous. Sam gulped and bit down on the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling. Nevertheless, he turned around and bent over slightly, bracing his hands on his knees in preparation for the abuse he was worried was coming. "What the hell are you doing?" asked Crowley, sounding confused.

Sam rolled his eyes before looking back at the man over his shoulder. "Aren't you gonna beat the crap outta me?" Words like that were often heard from the man whenever one of the orphans did something wrong.

Crowley placed his hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Have I ever hit any of you?"

"No, but you've threatened," Sam said, straightening up and turning around. "That's worse."

Crowley laughed, looking very pleased with himself. "I know," he said proudly, before re-locking the door. "Trust me, little moose," he said. "If you think you've got it bad in here, its downright awful out there. I'm doing you a favor by keeping you in." Grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt, he began dragging the kid back towards the stairs. "Now, what do you say?"

"I love you, Mr. Crowley," Sam muttered unhappily. Somehow, the man had gotten it into his head that he deserved love but never got any, and several times a day had the children in the orphanage declare their love for him. Sam resented it.

Crowley stopped, letting go of Sam's collar and spinning him around to face him. "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I love you, Mr. Crowley," Sam repeated, unnecessarily loud, trying to sound as insincere as he possibly could.

Crowley sneered, pushing him towards the stairs and following him up as he started to climb. "Rotten orphan."

"I'm not an orphan! My parents are coming back for me and you know it!"

Crowley snorted. "They left you here eleven years ago. Don't you think that if they were coming back for you, they would have already? Face it, kid. You're an orphan."

Sam remained silent as Crowley propelled him back into the orphans' room, switching on the lights. "Rise and shine, kiddies!"

The boys woke slowly, groaning and rubbing at their eyes in an attempt to clear the sleep from them.

"Its in the middle of the night," Gabriel wined to Crowley, purposefully irritating.

"No," Crowley retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes as the orphans got out of bed. He grabbed Sam's shirt again and pulled him out in front all of the kids. "Our dear little Sammy here has been trying to run away, _again._" Sam sneered at the nickname, glaring at Michael as he viciously muttered "Nice one, dumbass."

"Luckily," Crowley continued, "once he realized how much he would have missed us, he decided to come right back. So, as a little welcome home party, all of you are going to clean this junk pile until I can see my face shining on every flat surface in this dump. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, pulling a stack of buckets out from where they stood in the corner.

"Yes, sir," the boys replied in gloomy unison.

"Good. Now, I think you all know what I want to hear..." he turned his head and placed a hand behind the ear that was know facing the group of kids.

"We love you, Mr. Crowley."

"Perfect. Now get to work! And don't forget to strip your beds for the laundry man." With that, Crowley was back in the hall, heading down to his room to go back to sleep.

The boys all picked up their buckets, filling them with soap and water before retrieving their scrub brushes. They dropped their buckets on the floor, wetting their brushes before attacking the floor with them, getting out their anger at the unfairness of their lives. No one said a word as they did so, which reminded Sam of a rumor he had heard from their laundry man, Mr. Singer, or Bobby, as he told some of the kids to call him.

Bobby said that one of his colleagues, Mr. Bundles, did the deliveries in the girl's orphanage across town. He said that one day, when he was running a bit early, Bundles came in while the girls were cleaning and heard them _singing_ as they worked. Sam had rolled his eyes at the story. _Girls,_ he thought, even though he had never met one.

Lost in thought, Sam almost didn't notice when Garth grabbed his sleeve, tugging on it a little. Sam turned his head to see what he wanted. "Do you think we'll get any presents for Christmas this year?" he asked.

Sam sighed. "Do we ever?"

Garth looked upset at that, but what else could Sam tell him? He didn't want to give him any false hope. He would have bought presents for all of them, but A) he didn't have any money and B) he wasn't even allowed to leave the orphanage. Garth lapsed back into silence as they finished cleaning, rolling in the laundry basket and quickly filling it with their old sheets and pillows.

When Crowley came back in, all of the boys snapped to attention, standing straight as a line at the foot of their beds. "Good morning, boys," he said, voice so full of fake sweetness Sam thought he might hurl.

"Good morning, sir," he said instead, as did the rest of the orphans.

Crowley let a small, satisfied smile grace his lips before he stepped to the side of the door, allowing Bobby to come in with their new sheets. "Morning, ya idgits," he called out, but they were the most affectionate words any of the orphans had ever heard from a grown up.

"Morning, Mr. Singer!" they began to cry out.

Bobby laughed. "Morning, Crowley," he said with a smile as the two of them moved towards the center of the room. "Alright, guys. I got your clean sheets right here, as promised." The orphans' faces lit up, but it looked like Crowley was going to stay, which meant that they wouldn't be able to actually talk to Bobby. Instead, they formed a line, one by one grabbing fresh sheets off the top of the stack.

"You know, Crowley," Bobby said, "It wouldn't kill ya to loosen up every once and a while." Crowley shot him a look and Bobby shrugged. "I'm just sayin'. Why don't we go out for a beer or somethin'? I'm sure the boys'll be just fine on their own for one night."

"Then you clearly don't know the rotten trouble makers. Now just take the laundry and get out of here; there's no use in hanging around."

After putting his clean sheets on his bed, Sam looked up to find Crowley's back turned as he talk to Bobby. Seeing his window of opportunity, he rushed over to the laundry bin and pushed aside a few pillows. The other boys were a little confused at first, but quickly caught onto his plan when he whispered to Ash "Give me a boost," and hopped into the bin. They covered his form with the pillows, and it became impossible to tell that someone was hiding in there.

After being shot down by Crowley, Bobby turned back to the laundry bin, grabbing its rim and wheeling it towards the door. "Until the next time, boys! Oh, and Merry Christmas!" he called as he left.

"Bye, Mr. Singer!" came the excited response, and Sam knew that they weren't only saying goodbye to Bobby.

"Alright, kids," Crowley said before they could get too excited, "You've got a lot of work to do today. Best get started early."

"But what about our breakfast?" Raphael said, trying to remind Crowley that they hadn't eaten yet.

"After you're done," he said dismissively. "Well, if you've done a good job, anyway. Now, then. Roll call!"

All of the boys scrambled back to the foot of their beds as Crowley made his way down the aisle. He looked at each boy as they individually chanted "I love you, Mr. Crowley," yet again. He started with Gabriel, then Uriel, then Ash, then Victor, then Raphael, then Michael, then Zachariah, then Garth, then...

There was silence from the foot of Sam's bed, the kid himself being nowhere to be seen. "Sam? Get your little ass back out here!"

The boys started snickering. "Mr. Crowley, Sam's not here," Ash said with a smile that quickly disappeared under the ferocious look Crowley shot him.

"He's not? So where is he?"

Gabriel, the real troublemaker in the group, wasn't at all afraid of getting on the wrong side of Crowley. "Bobby Singer rolled him out with the dirty laundry."

"_**WHAT?!"**_


	3. Chapter 3

The orphans exploded into fits of laughter at the expression on Crowley's face. He was beet red, mouth gaping like a fish as he tried to form the words he needed. His hands were curled into fists at his side and he was trembling ever so slightly out of anger. However, the amusing spectacle only lasted a few moments before he came back to his senses.

"I could loose my license over this!" he bellowed, sprinting out of the room and thundering down the stairs, throwing the door open in an attempt to get to the laundry truck before Bobby pulled away from the curb. He hadn't even slowed down to grab his coat off the rack, running right out into the icy air.

Still howling with laughter, the boys rushed over to the window to watch what happened next, practically pressing their faces up against the cold glass to get a good view of the street as the front door of the orphanage flew open and Crowley ran out.

It didn't look like he had made it outside in time, because Bobby was already driving off down the street. "Stop!" Crowley called, but Bobby didn't hear him over the rumble of the engine. He ran out into the street and began chasing after the truck as it turned the corner drove away.

"He made it!" Garth cried gleefully. "He really made it!"

"Lucky kid," said Michael, tone happy but a hint of jealousy carrying through in his voice. It wasn't surprising to hear, however. They all wanted to get out.

"Just imagine what it must be like," Victor added. He had been dreaming about what it might be like to be out of the orphanage for months; the sights, the sounds, the freedom Sam must now be experiencing seemed to him like something right out of one of those dreams.

"Think he'll find his folks?" Ash asked, knowing that that would be the first, if not the only thing that Sam would dedicate himself to once out in the city.

Gabriel chuckled, jumping away from the window. "That kid? Chances are he's already got a lead on where they might be."

Ash's face was soon claimed by ear-to-ear smile as he jumped away from the window, quickly tackling Gabe as the two of them erupted into laughter once more. The rest of the boys joined in, too, dog piling on the trouble maker.

They were having a good time until Crowley came back, empty handed and downright furious. He began spewing insults at them, vowing to lock away the food for the rest of the week before shouting at them to get to work, which they reluctantly did.

That night, after being sent to bed without any dinner, Gabriel was at Garth's bedside, tucking him in when the younger boy spoke up softly. "Sam's gonna be okay, right Gabe?"

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Gabe had been worrying over the same question for the whole day. Sure, the kid was tough, but the city wasn't an easy place to make your way in, especially now. Sam didn't have anything with him; no money for food and no warm clothes to last him through the cold night. Gabe wasn't sure how well Sam would be able to survive on his own out there, but he knew he couldn't let it show.

"Of course he is," he lied. "Now go to sleep, you need it."


	4. Chapter 4

Now that he was actually out and looking for them, Sam realized that he actually had no idea about how to find his parents. He walked down the crowded street, asking anyone who would listen things like "Have you seen anyone who kinda looks like me?". Sure, it was pretty stupid, but what else could he do?

He pulled his thin clothes closer around him to keep out the chill, passing venders who had set up their carts along the street. Most, if not all of the food was hot and fresh. Sam was hungry, but he didn't have any money and he wasn't desperate enough to resort to stealing. Not yet, anyway.

Sam wandered around the city for a bit before he heard a voice call out from behind him. "Hey, kid!"

Sam turned around to find a police officer standing a little ways down the street. She was about average height with loose, dark curls. The name on her uniform said Meg. "What's the problem, officer?" he asked innocently.

"Where are your folks?" the police woman asked. She hadn't seen any adults with the young boy.

"My folks? Oh... they're at home," Sam lied.

"Really. So they just let their ten-year-old son wander around the city with no coat in the middle of December?"

"I'm eleven."

"Big difference that makes," Meg said, looking down at the kid. He was exceptionally thin, but decently tall for his age. His long brown hair flopped in his eyes as he looked back up at her. Somehow or another, the kid seemed kinda tough. She didn't doubt that he could fend for himself, but was still a little uneasy about him just taking his time as he walked around in the icy air without a coat. "Just get on home before you catch pneumonia," she said, letting him go. "Its cold out here."

"It doesn't bother me."

"Whatever, kid. Next time I see you you better at least have a coat." With that, the officer was walking back down the street.

No one else stopped Sam for the rest of the day, even as the temperature plummeted with the setting sun. He pulled in on himself a little to try to keep warm. One of the homeless women on the corner took pity on him, offering him her old, frayed scarf and not taking no for an answer, wrapping it around his neck and pinching his cheek. He smiled uncomfortably at the woman and gave her a quick "Thanks" before hurrying away. It was nearing midnight began searching for someplace that was at least shielded from the wind to spend the rest of the night when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

"New scarf, but no coat," a voice said, and he recalled it as belonging to the police woman from earlier that day. He looked up at her, and she didn't look very happy.

Without another word, she began walking down the street, pulling Sam with her. "So, your parents are at home, huh?" she said at last as they rounded a corner. "'Cause what I heard is that your an orphan."

"I'm not an orphan," Sam mumbled weakly in protest.

Meg rolled her eyes. "I know a few people who might disagree with you," she said, leading him down another street. They were silent for a long while before she spoke up again. "Rumor has it that you were rolled out in the laundry basket. Jumped in while everyone had their backs turned?"

Sam nodded dumbly, not knowing why she kept trying to make conversation with him.

The officer laughed a little, and Sam allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. He supposed it must have been a little funny to hear Crowley calling the cops because the kid he hated most got taken out with the dirty laundry.

They rounded another corner, and Meg took him into a building he didn't recognize but assumed was the police station. "What am I doing here?" he asked her softly.

Meg smiled. "I just figured there's no reason to wake everyone in the orphanage up in the middle of the night when it can wait until morning." She handed him a small bowl of hot soup and he smiled back at her gratefully. "So," she said conversationally a few minutes later, "why run away?"

Sam grimaced. He had hoped that Meg wouldn't ask him any questions but didn't see how he could lie anymore in this situation. "Looking for my parents," he said, staring into his soup. "They left me with a note saying that they'd come back for me when they left me at the orphanage, but they haven't yet."

"You sure they're still out there?"

Sam nodded, but honestly he had no way of knowing. The hope that his parents would be coming back for him someday was the only thing he could really hold onto. He didn't know how he would be able to deal with being stuck in that awful orphanage forever.

Meg didn't say anything after that, just let him doze off in the chair until morning. Once he woke up, she grabbed his wrist and walked him back to the orphanage. Crowley seemed overjoyed at Sam's return, but they all knew he was faking.

"Out of all my boys," he said, "little Sammy here is my favorite. Thanks so much for bringing him back."

Sam rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname, but kept his mouth shut. Anything he had to say at the moment would only make Crowley even more mad than he already was.

"Don't mention it," Meg said as the boy was ushered back inside. "Just look after him."

"That's my job, isn't it officer?" Crowley said with a forced laugh, walking into the orphanage and slamming the door behind him.

Meg lingered on the steps for a few minutes, just thinking. Sam seemed like a good kid, but she doubted that his parents were still coming back for him. She hadn't wanted to say anything, knowing that he needed something to keep him going in the orphanage. She wondered what was going to happen to him once he had grown up. There wasn't much she could do for the kid, but she hoped he would be alright.

Snowflakes began drifting down, quickly coating the ground in a thin layer of snow. With one last look at the doors of the orphanage, Meg turned on her heel, walking back up the street with nothing left to show of her presence other than the footprints left in the fresh snow.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean stepped out of the sleek, black car, drawing his coat closer around him as he took in the street. It was nearing ten in the morning, yet there was only one set of footprints in the snow that dusted the sidewalk. He thought that a little odd, but didn't pay much mind to it. Instead, he walked up the steps to the front door, opening it and letting himself inside.

The first thing he noticed about the building was that it was either very old or never tended to, letting it fall into a state of disrepair. The walls were both stained and cracked, and the floors were scuffed and worn. The stairs sagged a bit in the middle, and Dean could tell that they squeaked horrendously whenever someone walked up them. There was a distinct smell in the hall that he couldn't identify as being anything other than _old._

Looking to the side, he found the door to Crowley's office closed. A low, dangerous voice drifted out from behind it, and it almost sounded as if someone was being threatened. Dean gave the door three knocks before opening it slowly, poking his head around it saying "Is there a Mr. Crowley here that I can speak to?"

There were two people inside the office, one older man in a fairly decent suit he assumed must be Crowley and a young boy with shaggy brown hair that had to be one of the orphans. "And just who might you be?" Crowley asked calmly.

"I'm Dean," he introduced himself, walking into the office. "The city Board of Orphans said that-"

"Listen, it was all a mistake," Crowley said hurriedly, voice loosing the calmness in an instant. "Somehow or another, little Sam here ended up in the laundry basket, and one thing led to another and I had to call the cops. Please don't fire me."

Dean's eyes darted to the boy in the office and felt like laughing. From the look of pride that shone in the kids eyes, it didn't seem like Sam had just "ended up" in the laundry basket._ He was probably trying to make a break for it, _Dean thought. _And what a way to do it_. He smiled a little, and the kid shyly did the same. To Crowley, he said "I think you might have me confused with someone else."

Crowley's gaze hardened again once he learned that he wouldn't have to be pleading with this stranger for his job, and his eyes became cold. Dean decided then and there that he didn't like him. "Well, if you're here peddling beauty products, then I think you've come to the wrong place." He nodded his head back towards the door, indicating that he wanted Dean to leave.

Dean huffed. "Mr. Crowley, I don't 'peddle' anything," he said, as if the mere suggestion that that was what he did offended him. "I am the personal secretary to Castiel Novak."

Crowley's eyes went wide at that. "_The_ Castiel Novak?" he asked, sounding almost unbelieving. "The richest man in the world?"

"Yes," Dean said calmly, walking over and sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, even though he hadn't been offered a seat. "The Board of Orphans sent me here to extend Mr. Novak's personal invitation to an orphan to spend the holidays at his home. Maybe a kid like this one." He let his gaze come to rest on Sam, who looked a little surprised at what he was being offered.

Crowley, on the other hand, looked furious. That rotten kid was nothing but trouble, and now he was going to spend Christmas with the richest man alive? Not if he could help it. "Sorry, but I don't think that's going to happen. You see, Sam isn't an orphan."

"Yes I am," Sam argued back. There was no way he was going to let Crowley keep him from getting out of the orphanage.

"That's not what you were telling me yesterday, now was it?"

Dean was already warming up to the kid, so he decided to join their little debate. "If the kid says he's an orphan, then I'm going to assume that he's an orphan."

Crowley looked back at Dean, realizing he was loosing the argument. "You can have any orphan in this place," he said, "but you can't have Sam."

Dean raised an eyebrow, thinking quickly to find anything else he could say that would result in him leaving the orphanage with Sam. "If this has something to do with the incident with the laundry basket," he said carefully, making sure he was playing the right cards, "then perhaps the Board of Orphans should know."

Crowley fell silent. As much as he wanted to make Sam suffer, he also didn't want to loose his job. He couldn't think of anything else he could say to weasel himself out of the situation. Sighing, he propelled Sam at Dean, bitterly saying "He's all yours. Merry Christmas."

Dean smiled, pulling out the proper form and placing on the desk along with a pen. "Sign here," he commanded, pushing both objects across the desk to Crowley, feeling very pleased with himself as he saw Crowley bend down to sign. "Now, if you could get Sam's coat, we'll be on our way."

"Coat? Why would a kid need a coat?" Crowley asked, handing the form back to Dean.

Dean looked at Crowley, narrowing his eyes slightly. He knew that they didn't have a lot of money in the orphanages, but if the kid didn't have a coat, it made him wonder what else the kids didn't have. "We'll buy you one on the way," he said to the young boy, eyes softening again and a small smile creeping across his face.

"Really?" Sam said, eyes wide and full of happiness.

"Of course! Now, come on, Sammy. Let's hit the road." Somehow, Sam didn't mind the nickname so much coming out of Dean's mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

The doors to Mr. Novak's mansion swung open and Sam's jaw dropped. Never had he seen a house so large before, not to mention clean. The bright marble floors practically sparkled in the light pouring in from the gorgeous windows topped by stained glass. Maids and servants bustled about the place, dusting knickknacks and carrying an assortment of objects from one side of the house to the other. Dean smirked at the young boy's awed expression, beckoning over the head butler, Adam, to take their coats and deliver any messages that he may have missed while out.

As Adam hurried over from the other side of the foyer, Dean stopped the motions of the other workers. "Everybody," he called out, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "This is our Christmas guest, Sam. Sam, this is... well, everybody."

"Hello," Sam said, voice a mix of excitement and shyness. The workers nodded their heads as a quick greeting before going back to work. Sam was too distracted from the busyness of the room to really notice when Adam arrived at their side, taking Dean's coat.

"Has Mr. Novak's plane arrived?" Dean asked, handing it over.

"He called about a half an hour ago; his flight was delayed due to the snow. He's on his way, though. He should be here soon." Adam looked down to Sam with a friendly smile. "May I take your coat, sir?" he asked respectfully.

"Will I get it back?" Sam asked, leaning away a little. He had only just gotten it, after all. Why did the butler want to take it away so soon?

Adam looked a little surprised, and his eyes shot to Dean as if asking if the kid was being serious. "Of course, kiddo," Dean reassured him, ruffling his hair a bit. Sam gave him a small smile and turned around as Adam pulled off his coat for him.

"So tell me, Sam," Dean said, walking around to face him. "What do you want to do first?"

Sam looked around, a bit confused. The place was already spotless, but they _had_ been walking all over the floor in their shoes. "Umm," he said. "I guess I could clean the floors, and then the windows, if you want." He started rolling up his sleeves, already searching for where Mr. Novak might keep the buckets, when Dean caught his arm.

"Whoa, Sam, slow down. You're Mr. Novak's guest. You're here to have fun, not clean."

Sam's face was a little disbelieving at first, but it slowly lit up with excitement as he saw the sincerity in Dean's eyes. "Really?"

"Really," Dean confirmed, starting to lead him over to the stairs. "We've ordered in as bunch of stuff, just for you. Mr. Novak instructed me to make sure that, for the next two weeks, you have the best time here as possible."

"You mean it, Dean?" Sam asked, eyes wide.

"Of course! Now, I'll tell you what. First thing we're gonna do is take you up to see Jo, she's the one who'll be picking out all of your clothes for you."

"I get to wear new things while I'm here?"

"What, you think we're just gonna let you walk around in that ratty old outfit?"

Sam looked down at his clothes and chuckled self-consciously. It hadn't occurred to him before how out of place he was in the mansion. Everyone else was clean and well dressed with smiles on their faces and joy in their eyes. He was just a small orphan kid without a penny to his name. Dean noticed this, but decided against saying anything on the matter.

"Next, we're gonna have Ellen draw a bath for you," Dean continued.

"A bath? All for me?"

Dean nodded, leading Sam up the stairs. He hadn't realized before how poor life at the orphanage must have been. How long had it been since Sam had gotten new clothes? How long since he had had a bath? How many other kids shared it with him? Hell, Dean didn't even know when the last time Sam had even had a proper meal was!

"After that, I'm gonna take you on a tour of the house. What do you think, Sammy? Sound good?"

Sam giggled as Dean led him down one hallway, then another. "I think I'm gonna like it here," he said happily, walking into what would be his room for the next two weeks, finding Jo waiting for him.

Jo was a nice woman, maybe in her mid 20s, with wavy blond hair and a big smile. She was very patient with Sam as he bombarded her with all kinds of questions about anything he could possibly think of, waving goodbye to him as Dean ushered him out of the room to get clean.

Ellen, Jo's mother, was also very patient with Sam, letting him enjoy his bath until the water went cold. It was new for her to see a child actually eager to get clean; she'd often have to wrestle with Jo when she was younger to get her into the tub, no matter how filthy she was. She offered to add some more warm water to the bath for Sam, but he denied, curious about the rest of the house.

Once he was dry and dressed in his new clothes, Sam practically ran back down to the foyer to look for Dean. He found him talking with Adam about Mr. Novak's return, but he stopped once he saw Sam standing there.

"Looking sharp, kiddo," he said, and Sam grinned. "Ready for that tour, now?" Sam nodded eagerly, so Dean grabbed his hand and began leading him around the mansion, first to the pool, then the tennis court, then the sitting room, then dozens of other rooms. Sam had been particularly excited about the library, and Dean lightly teased him about being a bookworm. Sam blushed, looking at his feet and mumbling something about not having any books in the orphanage.

Dean was pulling Sam through the foyer again, taking him to see the sitting room, when Sam was nearly run over by a man in a nice suit and trench coat. He was about six feet tall with dark hair and bright blue eyes, looking down at Sam with a slightly confused gleam to them. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Sam," he said, mouth going dry as he stared back up at Castiel Novak.


End file.
